“Charming, huh? Oh, Prince Charming, save me from those Hellions and we can ride off in the sunset on your white horse,” Doll jokes in a swooning voice.
“I know. Who would’ve thought it for me, right?”
“I can see the compromise now… you can have the black picket fence if he gets one of those little yappy dogs or some shit.”
“Oh, Doll, stop it. Nick doesn’t want pets; they would leave hair everywhere. Besides, he wants to travel, and that would be something to have to board or take care of while we’re away. And no picket fences; black, white or otherwise. Nick loves living on the beach; we don’t need a fence.”
“Travel plans made yet?”
“When he finishes the project he’s working on, we are going away for a weekend. I don’t know where. It’s a surprise, he says.”
“All joking aside, I’m happy for you, Sass.”
~Tank~
“This isn’t a conversation we’re gonna have on the phone, Thorn. You wanna talk business, get your ass over here, and we’ll talk. And don’t send your crew. Given what’s gone down, I meet you or we don’t do business,” Roundman says. To whom, though, I am not sure. “Figure it out and get back to me with a date.”
There is a pause.
“Desert Ghosts on the phone again?” Danza asks, his voice laced in annoyance.
“Yeah, they want a transport contract. Given the losses we faced after Delatorre, they will either come here to meet and negotiate or we won’t take on their packages.”
Delatorre. Felix Delatorre. His name burns through my body as the memories flood me.
The longer Doll has to stay away, the more on edge Roundman becomes. His patience is wavering after we’ve previously raided four other empty buildings that were all set ups to keep us off Delatorre’s trail.
However, this time, we have solid information on him. Roundman put the word out that he was serious about coming after Delatorre, forcing him to go underground. After putting our guys on his warehouse for twenty-four-seven surveillance, we know Delatorre hasn’t left the building in three days. It’s like Roundman has always said, put your enemy in a position to be backed into the corner, drive them into the hole, and then flush them out.
According to our guy, we have on the inside, Delatorre has his entire production in this warehouse. The drugs being sorted, prepped, and packed in one locked room. The money stored in various safes placed in rooms turned to offices.
Since the threat was placed on Delatorre, he isn’t allowing anyone to leave. They sleep in rotations on bunk beds set up wall-to-wall in three rooms.
He was a day late and dollar short on his lock down, though. We were able to turn a few of his guys and gather information. Yeah, we have his own people ratting him out to us. To minimize the risk, we have one guy we communicate with. Communication with our guy has been hard, but we’ve managed. Those guys are idiots. They’re rats. We have no intention of letting them live, either, but the promise gives us the information we need.
Outnumbered and all, Roundman makes the arrangements to storm the building. When the call comes in from Tripp that he killed Pablo in the men’s bathroom while Doll was literally in a different restroom across the entryway, Roundman calls the sermon.
“Balls to the walls, boys. We go in and kill ‘em all. I don’t give a shit. You find Delatorre, though, and you hold him for me. I take him to the ground. If it’s the last thing I do, I’ll watch that fucker take his last breath.”
As soon as we dismiss, we pack and get on the road. The plan is simple and bold. We know Delatorre has a video conference at eleven a.m. that will keep him in his office. Using cargo vans, we’re going to pull up to the outskirts of the warehouse and unload. We brought twenty-two of our guys, yet our Intel on the inside says we’re up against forty or more. We have markers we could call in for back up, but Roundman wants to make a personal statement. Delatorre has threatened every Hellion woman, but he’s targeted Doll, going so far as to place cameras in her house to watch her and Sass. The man has more balls than brains.
For three days, we watch from the shadows. Every detail becomes committed to memory as we plan our moves. Knowing we are going in as the underdog adds to the adrenaline coursing through each of us. These are my brothers, not in blood, but in life and in death. Some of us may not make it out, however we stand together and fall together.
We have surrounded the building, each of us armed. Shoot first, ask no questions later. The fuckers inside picked the wrong team to play for. Roundman gives the order, it’s go time.
Pearl advances first, taking out the guard at the back door by silently snapping his neck. Yes, in broad daylight, Pearl moves his way through the shadows of the building, seeking cover behind trash bins at the back of the warehouse as he makes his approach. Reaching the guard, he swiftly moves behind him, grabs his head and twists. The man only has enough time to grab at Pearl’s arms before it is done and the first one drops.
Pearl, named for his shiny appearance, has no visible tattoos and is obsessed with oral hygiene. He is the only person I have ever known to literally brush his teeth after lunch to protect his pearly whites. He is always in clean jeans, polished boots, and put together immaculately. He is the pearl in the midst of all our outer rough shells. He also has the training for our stealth needs in this situation; able to keep even his killing clean.
A few of us follow the path Pearl clears, making our way to the back door. Around the sides, Coach is taking out his guard and moving his men in.
Carver, who normally stays on the road for transports, makes his way to his side of the building. Living up to his name, he eliminates the guard with a quick cut of the throat. With that done, we have taken over the sides and rear now.
The whistle comes through then the pop, pop, pop, pop sounds as the four front guards are taken out before they can figure out where we are and react. Yes, we’re here, fucker!
Rushing through the back door, I follow Bull—Uncle Kenny—inside. Rapid fire sounds around us as we storm through. Chaos encloses us as Delatorre’s men scramble to grab weapons and return fire.
Continuing to take out his men one at a time, we make our way deeper into the building, the concrete floors causing the sounds to echo further around us. The open space fills with the bodies of Delatorre’s crew as they get taken out.
Four doors line the right wall, opening to rooms and offices. Two by two, our guys pair up to take each room, looking for Felix Delatorre. Perry moves to the three offices lining the left wall, yet before he can open the first door, shots come through it. He is hit and goes down. With no time to tend to him, Coach fires back as he enters the room.
Roundman rushes into the second door to the left, and I look over as Delatorre’s face lifts in recognition. He is standing in front of his desk, obviously fumbling to get his weapon.
“You used my daughter to try to control me, but the Hellions control the chaos that surrounds us. So now you pay the price. You make threats while I keep my promises. I told you it would be at my hand you’d go to the ground, and that day is here.”
Before Delatorre utters a sound, the shots fire as Roundman puts two bullets in his chest. Delatorre stumbles back, falling against his desk. Walking over to him, Roundman leans down, Delatorre’s blood outlining the floor around his boots now.
Placing his Glock to Delatorre’s forehead, Roundman takes in the man that once threatened his daughter. “Go ahead and breathe your last breath. My Doll never should’ve made your radar. Now, you’re in mine. I’ll see you in Hell, fucker.”
Delatorre’s body bleeds out from the wound to his chest as Roundman pulls the trigger, sending the final bullet to his brain.
As I stay with Roundman, Bull moves to the last office on this side. The guard is ready for him, though. I watch helplessly as my uncle, the man who stepped in as my father-figure when I had no one, jerks back as each of the four shots fired hit him in the chest and gut.
Forgetting my club Prez, who is
taking on two guys rushing us from behind, I move to Bull. The whizzing sound doesn’t register as the fierce burn cuts through my abdomen from the bullet finding its way inside me. Falling to my knees, I forget the gunman in the doorway momentarily. Adrenaline, fear, and emotion run rampant through me, and I forget that I have been hit.
Pulling my uncle to my lap, the piercing burn of the second bullet cuts through my shoulder, reminding me I am in danger. Looking up, I face the man who I am pretty sure has killed my uncle and just shot me. Pulling my gun, I aim, and without hesitation, I fire. The gunman releases another round that lands in my gut. The sting of pain is indescribable as I watch my bullet take him down between the eyes. Retribution is mine for taking my family.
Leaning over my uncle not wanting him to take another bullet, I try to shield him. I watch as my blood gushes out and mixes with his. My jeans soak up the red liquid as it surrounds us both. Bull is gone. His eyes are open. He is looking out, but not seeing anything, void of life. I reach my hand up, closing his eyelids as I whisper, “Forever ride in eternity, Bull.”
My hands are shaking. My body is weak from blood loss. Before I can move, another of Delatorre’s men stands over me, holding a struggling Amy Mitchell at gunpoint.
As I raise my weapon to him, he moves his gun on me. The trembling taking over, I fire. The shot hits his arm, a miss. Taking advantage, he fires again.
I hear Amy Mitchell scream just before everything goes black.
Darkness. Black. I am engulfed in it. The memory is slipping again. I can’t pull out. Bull is gone.
Feeling the pull to let go, feeling the loss cut entirely too deep, I give up the fight and let sleep consume me.
Chapter
7
Reaper Comes
~Sass~
Getting back home to Nick, I have a nagging feeling things are unsettled with us.
I am in our bedroom unpacking when he comes in. Deciding to push aside the negative, I make my way over to him. Drawing him into me, I kiss him with every emotion I have bottled up, both good and bad. The kiss isn’t one I allow him to be gentle with as I grab at his neck, pulling him closer to me, forceful in my movements as my body needs to feel connected to something, to someone. I fight for something, anything to be real. I am dying inside, a slow death I can’t stop.
Finally, he is able to pull away from me. “Well, hello, Savannah. I take it you missed me?” he says with a conceited smirk.
Part of me wants to be a bitch and tell him I’m only attempting to feel something beyond the void. Never having been with a good guy, I decide to tame the bitch in me as I smile sweetly, giving him what he wants.
“Did you have a good time with your friend?” The undertone he takes with the word friend reminds me he comes from a different world than I do. He has never understood family that is beyond blood ties.
“I did. She’ll be here for the wedding soon, and I’m looking forward to having her around more, even if it’s short term.”
“Oh, yes, go back to what you’ve been running from. She’s a real good influence for you.” He doesn’t even try to hide his sarcasm.
“What’s that supposed to mean, Nick?”
“I’m not enough, huh? For whatever reason, your mouth says you want to walk away from your past, but at every turn, you’re running back to it. I’ve laid it all in front of you, but it’s not enough.” Disdain drips off every word.
“What the hell is your problem? She’s my best friend. This has nothing to do with the Hellions.” Feeling on edge, I can’t hide the defensiveness in my tone.
“I’ve shown you I’m everything for you, so why you think you still need any of them is beyond me. I’m everything you couldn’t have before. What are you doing for me, though? Giving me every reason to think you’ll walk away, that’s what.”
“Insecurity? That’s what this is about?” I question, trying to get to the root of his issues.
“No, it’s about you! I’m not your priority!” he roars and storms out of our room.
Not my priority? What the hell? I know I suck at relationships, but I don’t understand what he wants from me. It’s like he is supposed to be my world and my everything, literally. I grew up in an environment where women, although taken care of, come second best to the club. My dad and his brothers don’t care about being a priority to their women. They want to know their ol’ ladies are loyal, ride until we die kind of women that know their place. Seen and not heard, ass planted on the back of their man’s bike, do as you’re told, no fuss, no muss, and none of this I’m your priority shit.
The club is life, the club is priority. The club is what takes care of all of you, so all of you are loyal to the club. What Nick wants from me, I am not used to, yet I want to give this to him. My desire is to have a normal life with him. I just don’t know how to do it.
Following him down to our kitchen, my mind is racing. “Talk to me, Nick. Don’t run away. I’m sorry for whatever I’ve done.”
“Whatever you’ve done! That’s it right there; I’m whatever to you. I’ve never met someone so clueless before. It’s like you need me to spell it out for you, crayon style. Well, Savannah, we aren’t in kindergarten. Grow up.”
“You condescending asshole! This is my first experience away from the club, so my entire life is turned upside down right now. You want everything to be all about you, and I’m fuckin’ trying! And since we’re having this argument, what was your comment about me being where I said when you sent the flowers, huh? You checkin’ up on me?” Now is so not the time for me to add to our problems, but his comment has really been eating at me. If we’re going to fight, I might as well put it all out there.
“Yeah, I’m checking up on you. Actions speak louder than words, Savannah. And your actions don’t give me much to trust or believe in.”
“Have I given you any reason to doubt me?”
“When we first started dating or sleeping together, whatever you want to call it, you were coming off that whole situation with Tank. He used you, remember? You got drunk and told me every detail of ‘the best night of my life’.” He is using air quotes to remind me I did drunkenly tell him every moment and every orgasm I shared with Tank.
“Then, before we could really have a relationship, you were taking off on the back of Drexel’s bike. Drexel, yeah, who has a name like that? You tell me what a man-whore he is, and you were gone how long? You fucked him. No matter what you say, I know you fucked him.
“We were doomed before we could begin, Savannah. You come from a different world, one I thought you were ready to leave behind. At every turn, though, you’re going back.”
“Do you really think so little of me? That the first chance I have I’m gonna sleep with someone else? You really believe that?” I question, hurt at his accusation.
“Isn’t that what you did with me? Tank’s rejection stung. You wanted to ‘fuck him away.’ Those were your words to me the first night we met.”
“Yes, Nick, you were a rebound in the very beginning. But do you really think I would’ve given us a chance when I got back or moved in with you if I really didn’t want you and only you?” Tears fall as I realize my mistake.
“Fear. You came to me because your old life scared you.”
“I want to be with you, only you,” I say softly, wanting nothing more than to defuse our situation.
“Do you really? One hundred percent, you and me… no one else between us?” he sincerely questions me, the rage now gone.
“Yes, baby, yes. What do I have to do to show you?”
“Quit your job. We don’t need the money. I know I won’t convince you to miss the wedding, but you claim you want to walk away from all things Hellions, so walk away from it. Be home for me.”
“That’s what you need from me?”
He doesn’t respond verbally, but his eyes lock on me, confirming he does indeed need my dedication to him and only him.
“Okay,” I simply state. What more can be said? He needs th
is, and I need the security and safety he gives me. He is insecure. He feels vulnerable when he does everything he can to make me feel secure and I haven’t reciprocated. He has done nothing except go out of his way to give me the security I need, too. I owe him so much.
Leaving my job is easy when we don’t need the money. What’s more, I want to walk away from the Hellions, live my life not looking over my shoulder, and love my man without questioning where he is and the danger he’s in. Nick deserves my all, and from this moment forward, I will do everything to give it to him.
~Tank~
Someone is holding my hand. It’s a tiny, delicate hand with slender fingers. The way she is gently running her thumb over my hand is not like Sass does, though. This is someone else. My mom? I know she has been here to visit. I don’t know how often, but I can somewhat remember hearing her voice. Since she has responsibilities at home, I know coming to visit me has to take a toll on her.
My sisters are old enough to take care of themselves. Bonnie has a house of her own, a job, and a man. Laney is still in college, furthering her education. Mom takes care of her apartment and I pay her tuition. Are the Hellions still taking care of them? How long have I been out? I trust my brothers to handle my affairs.
“She needs Tank.” Her voice shocks me into recognition. She takes me back to the moment in the warehouse. Strong memories engulf me from her voice.
Amy Mitchell. She is being held against her will in Delatorre’s warehouse, another pawn in his game. Her voice washes over me after the bullet to my head. Vaguely, I can hear more shots and her screaming as she must have gotten free from her guard.
Unable to open my eyes, I can feel her delicate hands trembling as she applies pressure to my head and stomach.
“She needs you, Tank. Hang in there. Fight. Sass needs you. I saw the video of her at home. The videos Delatorre has of Sass and Doll, I watched them. She loves you. She needs you. She cries for you. Delatorre has files and pictures of you with her. I’ve read them, I’ve seen the pictures, and the moments you’ve shared. It’s in your eyes, both of you care deeply for one another. Hold on for her.”
Forever Ride Page 7
